Trent Lane - Mr X
by blue.hotel5
Summary: Ever-since I was forced to move out I haven't found peace. Instead I've accumulated a debt based on blackmail under my manager and struggled to keep afloat. The only joy I've felt is catching a glimpse of Mystic Spiral before finishing my "tasks", especially headman Trent Lane. Will he ever look my way?
1. Chapter 1

**LEMONS ahead, or I'll try my best to write a good one. Currently watching Daria since its loved for celebrating the mind of an independent thinker. If that's not enough to make me stay and binge-watch, seeing the tattooed, low talking Trent Lane is my personal treat.**

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First day on the job and I can't seem to catch a break. I wasn't referred by anyone since I'm new in town, but I was just too desperate to pass any potential work, even this degrading. It was never supposed to be like this. As sad as it might sound I want to be back at that cramped commune. I'd take a walk around everyday and pass by the same scene, the same black and brown spotted cat and the same potted azaleas, daisies and roses in that order. Though everything was shared and nothing my family owned could be called theirs, I had my brothers... and Tom. God I miss him. I miss his stupid toothy grin or his constant pestering for my books. He'd always return them, without a single new scratch or scuffed binding. I'd know when he's finished, because without fail he'd come with stolen muffins from our bitch of a neighbor and a trip to the fishing dock.

Days like those are long over. I can never come back, because since I turned 18 my parents kicked me out. I'm forced to find my own resources, and they can't afford to keep all of us afloat. It's better this way, my kid brothers need a place to grow up and live peacefully. I could have stayed at the old gas station and make my wages there. It's only 5 miles from the gate, then I can be close to Tom. But do I really want to live the rest of my life pumping gas. So, with the green stained duffel bag I got from trade off I've made the first steps of walking away from everyone I've ever known and am ready to see everything for myself.

I was too overtly optimistic.


	2. Chapter 2

All I've even known was to help eachother with all our deeds because our personal wealth is a shared wealth. I was sat for seven hours, with nothing but the sea of undiscovered land to fill my eyes. Once I stepped off the bus terminal all I saw were cold, gaunt faces that were consumed with pure self-interest. I'd asked fellow passengers that I shared my snacks with if they could help me find a place to spend the night. No response. Even the security guard told me if I didn't shove off they'd detain me. The only hope I saw were the conveniently advertised hostels around the area. I only had so much pocket change to spend and these rooms were priced sky high. Begrudgingly, I scrapped a town map laying on the asphalt and made my way since I was running out of daylight.

The stares were unbearable, or maybe it was my imagination. I felt like a spectacle, these people, these people I have never even meet before were categorizing me in their minds. "She's not one of us. Go back to where you belong. There's nothing for you here. The city is ours." They were looking straight through me! I ran as fast as I could, I couldn't take the judgement or this life.

I pushed my way through the crowds, at this point I couldn't keep the tears from streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't stop the blatant thoughts of anxiety or hopelessness. I wasn't use to this surrounding.

A sudden image of the great field and the fishing dock flashed behind my retinas. A stark comparison to endless gray buildings that enclosed my sense of free movement. I lost feeling in my arms and legs and fell knee first into the cobbled sidewalk. There I stayed as people walked around me and complained. Little did they know they were only an assembly line of faceless bodies following the other body in front of them, unknowing of their destination.

I don't know how long I kept this position, but I felt like eternity. Until a big, hairy knuckled man grabbed me by the shoulders and proceeded to lift me up. I don't look past his gold necklaced pendant, out of fear for what might be looking back at me. My body is frozen, as I anticipate achingly for his next move.

Out of my surprise he lays his fur lined, brown leather coat over my back and spoke softly. All I could hear at first was white noise, and the sound of passerbys jumbled and muffled.

He repeated himself and told me, "... focus on your feet. Feel the ground underneath them."

Skeptical, I envision the pavement and slowly I start to feel my body coming back from the air, and I am grounded. He asks, "How are you feeling? Are you lost? Are you hungry?"

I nod my head.

He then leads me through a pair of glass doors and I feel bright florescent lights stinging my eyeballs. My legs don't seem to be moving, but I end up sitting on a red, vinyl booth. The strange man hands me a menu, I still haven't looked at his face.

I muster up the courage after reading _Lumber Jack Style Eggs and Stacks_ and start to inch my way forward. He is round faced with stubble growing around the neck. Greased back hair looking early forties, and a big, bulging belly. I am immediately intimidated. What have I gotten myself into? Should I bolt for the doors and not look back? Now I'm getting ahead of myself. Who am I to judge on appearances when he out of a sea of people was the only one to lend me a hand.

I smile slightly. "I'm feeling a lot better. Thank you. I'm sorry you had to see me so overwhelmed. I won't take up more of your time." I start to get up from the seat, but he insists that a little food will get my energy back up. A waitress came by and asked for our orders. I had soup and salad, he took a black coffee.

"You don't want to pass out again? Do you? You'll never know who you'll meet in a city like this, good thing you're with me. I'll protect you..."

Earlier I genuinely felt as if I was about to die from my panic attack, this resulted in my adrenaline spiking. I felt a pooling uneasiness at the pit of my stomach. I knew in the back of my mind I shouldn't accept anymore help from this man. But before I voiced my concern and my plans not involving him, he offered me something I couldn't refuse.


	3. Chapter 3

"I see that you're stressed, and it looks like you've had a bad night. But that's no reason to get you down! I have a very easy solution to make all your problems go away." He said with a convincing amount of sympathy.

Well there's no harm in hearing him out a little bit. "Mister... "

"Bickle. I think you should remember that from now on." He said slyly. "I run a concert hall, just a few blocks down. Now don't think I'm only out to get your money, but if you'd like I have a couch in one of the offices. I don't want anything in return, just reaching out my hand to any takers. You know, I've had my time on the street. Back then no one had any decency to lend me any help."

Before it was hard for me to read his thoughts, now this city is starting to look a little bit more hopeful.

Our waitress comes by with the food and I scarf it down not minding how scaldingly hot the soup is.

"But what about security? Would it be safe for me to be alone?" I also think about what I'm going to do about showering.

He reassures me, "Nothing is going to happen, I'm over there so much of the week I'm sick of it!"

Should I take the leap?

"Hey if you're feeling any sort of guilt, how about you work for me as well. It's a simple job too, just some cleaning here and there. We have a lot of acts coming through every night and I always need extra hands to set up." He's serious. His face unwavering, and his words gloss over all feeling of uncertainty and fear.

A roof over my head and making some much needed funds? This is almost too good to be true.

At the end of our meal and once the cheque came, I put down my half.

He refuses it sternly and once again we are back on the street.

Bright blue skys have turned a deep, hazy navy. The street lights and neon signs shone onto the dark stained streets. They were distorted and it resembled bleeding paint since it had just rained. Even though there was such a collection of light all around us, the endless black road swallows it up.

I stagger, but words still persisted. "I'll go with you."


End file.
